Changes
by Dragynflies
Summary: Elle & Sylar give the whole relationship & family thing a shot after the events of 3x09. AU after, not taking into account any spoilers from future Heroes episodes. Updated rating at of Chapter 3, complete as of 11/27/08
1. Chapter 1

Elle is asleep against your chest, her head tucked in the curve of your shoulder, but you're too wired to sleep.

Instead, you're playing with your array of powers (practicing, you tell yourself). A penny from the nightstand shimmers into gold, then floats into the air. The next part is the tricky part – Elle's power is still new, vibrating under your skin, and you aim at the floating gold penny, destroying it with a bolt of electricity.

You're pulling random things from the nightstand now, changing them and blowing them up, and you're so absorbed in your powers that you don't notice Elle stir at first.

It isn't until you start spinning an already levitated gold ice cube that Elle's little sniffle gets your attention.

_Oh, shit._

You've been so wrapped up in each incident of guilt that sometimes you forget, though it seems impossible. Because…honestly, Bob Bishop was a bad guy. A bad guy masquerading as a loving father, at least in Elle's eyes.

Really, he was all she had.

You drop the gold ice cube to the floor and wrap your arm around Elle.

"I'm sorry," you tell her, and she nods against your chest, but you can feel little tears falling onto your skin.

"I wasn't good enough for him," she mumbles, her words muffled, "I tried to be good."

"Elle…"

"No, you were right. I _wasn't_ good enough for him. And I shouldn't miss him, but…" she's quiet for a moment, but then her breath hitches again and she cries harder, _"Daddy!"_

It's all your fault. You didn't even think twice as you sliced his head open, didn't even care.

It's not even that great of a power in the long run, really. The Midas touch. Or whatever metal you're into that day. You can make things shiny and make a quick buck at the pawn shop, really, and for that, you took away the only person Elle had in her life.

If he hadn't died, and you hadn't been on the warpath, Elle would still be a Company girl, with too high heels and skinny jeans, following whatever order she was given.

Now she works with you, for your father, and…follows whatever order you or Arthur give her. Mafybe she doesn't even realize it.

You run your hands through her hair and smooth out the tangles, waiting for her to look up. When she does, you brush your thumb across her cheek, wiping away the tears.

"Ellie, I'm sorry," you tell her again, "I would change things if I could."

She shakes her head, giving you a sad smile, "No," she says quietly, tracing the line of your jaw with her fingertip, "I don't want to change things."

You swallow hard, staring into her eyes, and you get the sense that she's not used to being so honest with people.

"Go back to sleep," you soothe, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek in your palm, "I promise nothing's going to hurt you again. Not even me."

She turns her head, kissing your palm, before nestling back down against you. You lay still except for rubbing your hand gently up and down her back, but you can feel that she is not sleeping. Her little fingers are tracing abstract shapes on your chest, over your heart.

Her breath hitches and you think she's about to fall asleep, but instead, she speaks.

"We're going to have a baby," she says softly, and the abstract shapes her finger is tracing turn into little hearts.

TBC??


	2. Chapter 2

"We're going to have a baby," she says softly, and the abstract shapes her finger is tracing turn into little hearts.

The bile rises in your throat before you really even process the words and for a minute, you think the buzzing in your ears is going to make your brain explode.

Don't think about your _brain._

"Gabriel?" Elle's voice sounds like it's coming through a tunnel. She's sitting up; you can feel her moving away from you, wrapping her arms over her belly, "Gabriel, say something!"

"How…how am I supposed to be a _father?_" you finally gasp the words out, and you realize your whole hand is lit up, sparking electricity across your fingers.

"Gabriel…" she chokes back a sob, reaching for you.

"DON'T!" you yell and you push her away from you (you just told her you were never going to let anything hurt her, and now you're making her cry) and jump out of bed, clutching at the sides of your head, "How can you be _happy _about this?"

Her eyes are huge, shiny with tears that spill out and slide down her cheeks, "How can you NOT be?" she snaps, tugging the sheet around her body and standing up as well. Now you're facing off across the bed you just made love in, and the whole thing is surreal.

"Because I'm not a good person, Elle! I can't change overnight; you didn't give me enough time!"

"What are you that I'm not?" she screams, her voice catching as she falls back into hysterics, "A murderer? I'm not innocent either, _Gabriel_ but we're _trying!!_ Doesn't that count for anything? Creating a life for all the lives we've taken?" she's sobbing now, big dramatic heaving sobs that have her shoulders shaking, and she looks so tiny all wrapped up in the sheet from your bed.

"I can't do this, Elle. Not right now, I'm sorry," you say, backing out of the room, "I need some time."

She picks up a paperweight from the nightstand next to her bed and throws it at you as hard as she can. It misses by a mile, smashing into the wall and shattering into a million pieces.

Eight weeks ago she would have electrocuted you into pieces. "Fine! GET OUT, I don't want you here anyway!!!"

xxxxxxxxxxxx

You sit alone on the couch in your living room, staring at the black television. _A baby. _

You're going to be a father. You're going to be responsible for someone, another little person, and you have no idea what you're going to do.

What are you going to do if your little baby comes out of the womb zapping like Elle did? Give the baby a cute "play on their power" name and test them until they snap? No…you'll be nothing like her father…nothing like your mother.

What are you going to do if your child has no power?

And why isn't Elle panicking right along with you?

Just when things were getting better…they all went to hell.

You've got nothing else to do but go back to bed, go back to Elle, and apologize (again) for your actions. Might as well do it now, because you know she's not going sleep without you, and you're not sure you remember how to sleep without her.

"Elle?" you whisper as you push the bedroom door open again, just in case she did fall back to sleep, "Elle, are you awake?"

The covered lump on the bed nods weakly and she warily pulls the sheet back to meet your eyes, "What do you want?" she asks, her voice cold.

"I'm sorry," you say, for the millionth time that night and you know you'll probably have to say it a million more.

She's quiet for awhile, then opens the sheet, inviting you back into bed. You sit down next to her, and she slides into your lap; you see she's slid into your shirt, and the knot in your stomach starts to unclench.

"I'm scared too," she says quietly. You open your mouth to say something –anything –to make this better, but she places a finger over your lips, "Let me talk."

You nod, pressing a gentle kiss to her finger.

"I'm scared too. I'm all kinds of messed up – I'm sane enough to realize that. I know I have crazy mood swings, and I know I'm never going to be normal. This is who I am, this is who I'll always be. But Gabriel, you're teaching me how to ilove./i I think I can be a good mother. I can feed the baby and hold the baby. I won't hurt our baby, Gabriel. _And you're not going to either."_

You don't know what you're supposed to tell her, what you're supposed to say to make things okay. Maybe you should just apologize on loop, tell her you don't know what you're doing, that this whole empathy thing might be twice as hard as being a killer.

"So we're having a baby," you settle for telling her, holding her and rubbing her back.

"Let's keep this to ourselves for now," she suggests, leaning her head against your shoulder as she calms down. You agree; things are a mess right now, but they always seem to be…especially when you're around.

Elle is already falling back to sleep, her head nodding as she tries to stay awake, and you wrap your arms around her and help her to lay back down, curled around you. She says she sleeps better when she can feel you breathing.

She never had anyone when she was at the Company. No friends, no boyfriend, no mother. She had a part time father, who was only interested in her when it was convenient for him.

Oh, you are an idiot. It's no wonder she's always trying to be near you, why she didn't completely balk at the idea of having a child.

She's never had anybody, and pretty soon she'll have two people who love her – really love her, not just her ability.

"Elle, I'm so sorry." Empathy really does hurt almost as much as killing…and it's no easier to deal with the aftermath of either.


	3. Chapter 3

The whole thing about trying to keep Elle's pregnancy between the two of you is that she's not a very good liar. She can't keep her hands off her still flat abdomen, and she's nearly slipped and spoken about the baby in front of just about everyone.

When Arthur catches her throwing up in the garbage can in the hallway and asks if she's alright, she tells him, "I'll be fine. It's just the bab—bad. Something bad I must have eaten," before taking off like a shot.

Looking back, you can pick apart the whole situation in your apartment, with the pie and the ziti on your floor, and you know when she was lying to you.

And when she was lying to herself. (She was never just following orders.)

The other thing about trying to hide Elle's pregnancy is that her "morning sickness" is bordering on "all day sickness" and if she goes any paler, she's going to be see-through.

"You're going to have to see a doctor at some point, Elle," you tell her one night, pulling her hair back from her face as she throws up what little she managed to eat of her dinner.

"So…Mohinder?" Elle asks.

"I want you to see a real doctor." _Someone who won't decide that our baby would be the perfect test subject. _"Someone with some experience at prenatal care...not a genetics professor running research experiments."

"Right. A real doctor," Elle says, her voice not nearly as strong as she'd like it to be. She leans back against the bathroom wall and stares at you before cupping her hand and curling her fingers around the little ball of electricity in her hand.

You laugh, spark up your own ball of light and slide your hand into hers. The electricity joins, and then fizzles out, "We'll talk to someone here. I'll tell my fath…Arthur first."

xxxxxxxxx

Arthur reacts with no surprise, directs you to the doctor he's already arranged for, and tells you that Elle should go see Dr. Weatherly whenever she would like to.

You realize then that you should have known this was planned from the start, and that the apartment you had been provided with came with a few strings.

When you get back to your little apartment, you zap out the cameras in all the rooms, and when you talk to Elle, you leave out a few details (like the camera that's still smoking behind the wall in your bedroom.)

xxxxxxxxx

Pregnancy has Elle's hormones going haywire, and you love every second of it. She's curled around you like a cobra, her little legs are wrapped around your waist, and she's clawing at your shirt, trying to undo the buttons without removing her mouth from your neck.

"I need you," she pants out, her breath hot against your neck, and she moves her kisses to your earlobe, sending a different kind of electricity down your neck.

"You have me," you tell her, and she clings to your neck harder, putting her palms on your cheeks to turn your head so she can kiss you, "Let me take you to bed."

She nods, breaking the kiss so she can rest her forehead against yours as you stumble into the bedroom, Elle still in your arms. She lets you go as you lay her on the bed, crawling up to lay next to her. Gently, you start to unbutton the dress shirt she's got on – your shirt – and pull it open, so you can leave a trail of kisses from her collarbone to her belly button. She giggles, and the frantic mood from a minute ago is replaced by something you've learned is serenity.

You feel her little fingers trail through your hair and then move down to start unbuttoning your shirt. There is a button missing from earlier, but the rest of them remain intact as she finally pushes the shirt off your shoulders. You tug it off the rest of the way, dropping it to the floor and she sighs happily.

"We have the whole weekend," she breathes, happy to have you to herself for two whole days.

She doesn't share well, but she's trying.

"Better make this last then," you tell her, and every time you smile you're amazed at how much easier it is than last time.

You finish undressing her slowly, taking your time divesting her of her pants and socks until she is lying under you in just her little lacy bra and panties.

"Mmm, I like these," you tell her, running your fingers over the lacy designs. Elle gasps as you cup her breast through the fabric, arching into your touch.

"Please don't tease me," she begs, squirming as she reaches behind her back, unsnapping her bra. When her fingers go to the waist of her underwear, you laugh, stilling her hands by covering them with your own.

She returns your smile, moving her hands away and raising her eyebrows in an exaggerated "I give up" expression, and you tug her panties down over her slim legs before kissing your way back up.

Her pale skin is flushed red, and every breath she takes pushes her breasts closer to you. All in all, she's far too beautiful to be real, and you suddenly can't stand another minute not being within her. You kick your jeans off and slide against her heated skin.

She pants out your name, and you think you'll never get tired of hearing her say it. _Gabriel. _The two of you don't put much stock in pet names, not when you're both still trying so hard to redefine who Elle and Gabriel are, and hearing your name coupled with such love (she hasn't said it yet, maybe doesn't know how to define it yet, but it'll come) makes every bad day worth it.

You slip into her with no resistance, and her back arches. She sighs happily, reaching to wrap her little hands around your biceps, holding you. When your fingers find her clit, teasing (you never promised not to) her eyes widen then flutter shut as her orgasm builds. Elle pulls her lower lip between her teeth, biting down as she arches back against you, her hips moving in tandem with yours.

When she comes, she nearly screams your name, and you lean down to kiss her quiet, following her into orgasm.

Afterwards, you roll over so she can lie on your chest, tracing little shapes and sparking to make the hair on your chest stand up. It doesn't hurt, just sends gentle tingles down through your toes. You love her, you know you do, but you're just as scared of voicing it out loud as you imagine her to be…but you can't imagine not having her anymore.

She's the most interesting combination of the Elle who rescued you (you always wondered why the broken rope had singed ends) and the Elle who in the end betrayed you. She doesn't like to talk about the time before, but you've reconciled in your mind that not everything she said was a lie.

She does think you're special, and she doesn't want you to go away.

She's overly dependent on you, and it should bother you but it really doesn't. She fakes it well in front of people, especially people who she thinks have power over her, but when it's just you and her (and the shorted out cameras, now, but you'll have to keep checking they aren't replaced) she lets her guard down and you realize just how much she needs to be reassured.

You wish you could take her out on a regular date, take her to some little spoken word gathering or an art show – you think she'd like something like that, but the idea of trying to assimilate into something else is a little overwhelming even for you.

She lights up like a damn Christmas tree when you tell her she's doing well and the fastest way to upset her is when Arthur implies she hasn't done everything she could, hasn't followed whatever instruction he's given her to the letter.

You're pulled from your thoughts when Elle shift on your chest, and she touches a finger to the tip of your nose.

"Where'd you go?" she asks, propping up her chin and looking at you, her eyes calm.

"Just thinking," you reassure her, tucking her mussed hair behind her ears, smoothing out the tangles, "nothing bad."

She nods, lets you have your privacy and drops it. Occasionally her sensitivity surprises you, because you still sometimes think of her as lacking a few of the basic social cues, and at times she really doesn't know when to drop a topic.

"Are you going to come with me tomorrow?" she asks carefully.

"Tomorrow?"

"I was gonna go see Dr. Weatherly..." her voice trails off. She's nervous, but she'll never tell you that. Never admit to being _nervous._

"You want me to come?"

She nods, and the hope in her eyes makes her look about twelve.

"Okay. I can do that…you're sure?"

She nods again; giving you a brilliant smile, then nuzzles her head under your chin. You feel her breath puff hot across your chest and a whisper from her before she nods off, and you think you know what she said.

_I love you. _


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Weatherly is not at all what you expected. Instead of the white haired, male doctor you expected she is a bright eyed woman, just a little older than Elle.

Elle seems to like her on sight, and even you find that a little odd.

"Please. Grace," Dr. Weatherly corrects when you address her with her title. Now you're nervous, and you hate that feeling. In your pockets, your hands clench, and you try to be normal, try to act like what you'd imagine a father to be to act like.

Elle is looking between you and the doctor like the two of you are in a tennis match and you realize you're upsetting her. Sitting in a hospital gown with a sheet covering her bare legs and her feet in stirrups isn't helping anything.

"I'm guessing this is your first child," Grace says, even though you'd be willing to bet your life that Arthur has briefed her on the two of you. Still, it's nice of her to pretend.

Elle nods, and reaches for your hand. The static when she twines her fingers with yours makes you jump, and she winces apologetically.

"Um," she starts, and you can tell she's not used to feeling sorry for her ability. Of course not; everyone she's used to interacting with has either been evolved, or at least in on it, or someone she was supposed to…manipulate.

"No, you're fine," Grace assures her, patting her arm. Elle flinches from the friendly touch and looks a little suspiciously at the doctor. Grace shrugs, opens her hand palm up to Elle, and shows her the green sparks that dance across her palm.

Now you know what Arthur picked her.

"So you're fine here," Grace repeats, "just…try to calm down when I need to do the ultrasound."

Elle nods, visibly calmer, and Grace starts the process by drawing some blood, "Do you have any idea when you conceived?" she asks as she places the Band-Aid over Elle's arm.

Elle shakes her head, "Ten weeks? At the most…"

You have no idea either.

"Well, that's a start. I'll check the hCG levels in your blood, that will help give us an idea. An ultrasound will be a little more accurate at predicting the gestational age of your baby. Does that sound okay?"

Elle nods silently, glancing at you for reassurance. You squeeze her hand slightly and then turn your attention to Grace, who is preparing the ultrasound wand. Elle is jumpy, and your watch her eyes clench shut as she counts to ten in a silent whisper.

"Hey," you bend over to murmur in her ear, "its okay. No one is here that is going to judge you for being nervous. It's just me, you know me."

"Are you ready?" Grace asks, and Elle nods, her eyes still tightly closed. "Elle, if you're uncomfortable, you just need to tell me, okay? I promise to stop."

Elle nods again as Grace tugs the sheet between her legs up. You step forward to protect Elle from any more embarrassment but its Elle's turn to sooth you, and she nods, "Its okay. I read about it." Her voice is almost proud – Elle did her own research for the first time in her life. She knows what's going to happen because of something she did, and not because she was told by someone else.

Grace gives you an encouraging smile, gently slipping the sensor between Elle's legs and nods at the little screen she's positioned to face in your direction.

A little bean blips on the screen, and a tiny pulsing circle draws your attention.

"Looks like ten weeks is about right," Grace tells you and the minute your eyes connect with Elle, you realize you're both thinking the same thing.

_Your first time, in the electricity cell…_

Elle reaches towards the screen, touches the image of the little creature that is going to grow into your child. "Look," she tells you, like your eyes aren't already glued to the screen, "I finally did something right."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Now that everyone knows that you and Elle are expecting a baby, she gets to show off her little belly and prances around the whole building like she's walking on a cloud. You think you'd prefer to have a little house or an apartment not in Pinehearst, but your father would prefer to keep you here, and sometimes you just need to pick your battles.

No new cameras have shown up.

There's been a lull in assignments (Elle isn't allowed to go, and she gets upset when you're sent out) so you decide to give the whole date night a try. Elle is thrilled when you tell her that the two of you are going to go out to dinner and then to a little play at a local theatre.

However, she's in tears minutes later when she's digging through her closet, trying to find something cute to wear tonight. She's standing in your bedroom, naked except for her bra and underwear, holding her favorite blue shirt and black pants and absolutely sobbing.

"Elle, honey," the pet name slips out without you even realizing, "what's the matter?"

"It doesn't fit," she bawls, dropping the clothes to the floor. She's been wearing your shirts a lot, so it makes sense she wouldn't have noticed exactly how much bigger she's become, but not twenty minutes ago she'd been lying on the couch, rubbing cocoa butter into her skin and cupping her hands around the curve of her stomach.

"Okay, it's okay," you sooth, pulling a white dress shirt out of the closet and guiding her to put it on, "We're going out tonight anyway, we can go shopping. Wear the black pants you had on yesterday, they fit."

She sniffs, wipes her hand under her nose and stares at you with watery eyes. "Oh," she says, "Okay."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It feels way too weirdly normal to be walking around the mall – the fucking _mall_ -- with Elle, looking at clothes.

You haven't been this _normal_ in years and your skin is crawling a little bit at all the people surrounding them, walking around, living their lives, blissfully ignorant of people who can fly, paint the future, blow things up with electricity from their palms and worse.

"Do you like this?" Elle asks, blending in better than you, holding up a blue shirt with an empire waist.

"Sure," you agree, and now you really feel out of your element.

Dating was never your strength when you were Gabriel the first time around either.

"You don't like it," she says, and her lip starts to quiver in that way that screams _fix this now, or I'm gonna cry._

"I do, I do like it," you try to reassure her, going over to where she's standing, next to a rack of clothes in a maternity store (what is your life now that this is something you're really doing?) and gently rubbing her back.

An hour later, Elle has three bags of clothes that fit her (and will hopefully fit for awhile, because you really do not enjoy clothes shopping) and a smile back on her face.

You're walking through the mall to the attached restaurant when a familiar face catches your eye and you can't hide the way your entire body tenses.

_What the hell are Claire and Peter doing here?_

Elle notices your gaze and follows it, unfortunately managing to lock eyes with Claire in the process.

One night, you wanted ONE night to be normal with her.

Peter is walking with his niece, and of course the bruises from the…fall…out of the window at Pinehearst are gone. Peter eyes you warily, but somehow the four of you end up standing in the middle of the hall, standing in the most awkward quartet of your life.

"Hi," Elle finally says, even raises her hand and waves.

"You're not…zapping yourself anymore," Claire observes while Peter's wary gaze changes to a pretty intense glare.

"No," Elle agrees, glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, "Gabriel – "

"Going by Gabriel again, _brother_?" Peter spits out, putting an arm in front of Claire, like she's the one that needs to be protected.

"Working with mother again, _brother_?" you spit back, and the tense silence that results threatens to overwhelm the entire mall.

Claire finally notices what should have been obvious and turns wide eyes to Elle, "You're pregnant."

Elle nods, her free hand coming up to cover her tummy, like Claire's gaze is going to hurt the baby, "I am."

"It's…_his?"_

"Yes," Elle answers, and you're proud of how happy she manages to sound in that one word.

"After what he did to Peter…" Claire's voice trails off, and she steps backwards, "You know what? Nevermind. I wish I'd never helped you. Stay away from me," she bites out, "I thought you were going to be different. But my father is right. You two will never change." She tugs at Peter's arm and storms away.

"Elle…"

"No," she says, and the tears are back. "I'm not hungry anymore. I want to go home."


	5. Chapter 5

You try to convince Elle to not let them ruin your night, but it's too late. She is seconds from crying, and you can only imagine what's going to come after that if you force her to stay in public.

"Come here," you tell her, and you tuck her into the curve of your arm, pulling her close. The plastic bags bump into your leg, and you take them from her, carrying them in your other hand. She struggles against you, fighting the very public display of affection, but you know you don't look any different than anyone else at the mall with his girlfriend.

_Girlfriend._

You don't think you've ever thought about her like that, but you suppose it's the right term. You remember dreaming about her and all the cute things you would do with her the first time around (from _before_) but since then, she's just been Elle, and you've been together, with nearly no discussion of what your relationship means.

She is silent in the car ride back, lets you lead her to your apartment silently and goes straight for bed. She tugs down her pants and crawls into the bed, not bothering to remove the rest of her clothes.

Your experience with comforting people is limited to mostly her, and mostly the last ten weeks, and you still don't know if you're doing it right, but you follow her anyway and pull her into your arms on the bed. She buries her face in your chest and doesn't say anything, slow tears leaking out of her eyes and soaking your shirt.

"Elle, you have to stop," you finally tell her, "You're going to make yourself sick, and it's not worth it."

"I should have found her," she mutters.

"Found who? _Claire?_ Why?"

"She helped me. She helped me get to Pinehearst…on the airplane, she helped me stop," her voice catches, and she tries to continue, "I was electrocuting everything, I couldn't control…what you saw was nothing. She held my hand and let me channel the electricity into her. And then we got to Pinehearst and Peter came flying out of the window – I didn't even wait to see if he was okay. I just ran inside."

"That's not your fault, Elle. You were in pain."

"So was he. And I just left him…left Claire, because I was selfish. And it didn't matter anyway, they locked me up the minute I got inside. You…you were the first person I'd seen since I got there."

If you really think about how your relationship started, you think your whole head would explode of its own accord.

"Elle, that was weeks ago," you try, and she nods angrily.

"I know! And I should have…I should have found her and tried to find out what's going on. And it's all a mess now, and if she's on that side, and we're on this side, then who's really the bad guy? Are we on the wrong side _again_?"

"I don't think so," you try, but who knows? Maybe there's more to it than black and white, maybe all your struggles to be "good" are worthless. "What can I do to help you?"

Elle shakes her head – she doesn't know how to make this better any more than you do. "Just hold me," she finally says, closing her eyes and letting you soothe her to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Grace is always happy to see Elle, answers every single one of Elle's overprotective questions, and lets Elle sit with her even when she doesn't have an appointment.

Grace has a boyfriend and a four year old daughter named Allison, who has yet to manifest any abilities. One day Grace brings Alli over, and you can't help but smile as Elle plays with the little girl, showing her how little sparkles of electricity jump around in Elle's hand.

"Elle looks good," Grace observes to you, listening with half an ear as Allison giggles.

"She does," you agree – and you're not lying. Elle wears pregnancy well, glowing and perky now that the morning sickness has left her alone. You can't keep your hands off her belly, you love watching her swell and you are anxious for the day that you can feel the baby moving under your palm.

"What do you want?" Grace asks, and you are so caught up in your own thoughts that it takes you a minute to realize she's spoken.

"What do I want?" you parrot.

"A boy? A girl? We can find out at Elle's next appointment, so you two had better decide if you want to know…"

"I just want it to be healthy."

"And have a cool ability?" Grace questions, and her voice is a little harsher than it was seconds ago.

"I don't care. I want a healthy, happy baby who will never have to answer for anything. I want a baby who has two parents that love it, and respect it."

Grace nods and backs off – the anger in your voice was not well hidden, but you think you made your point.

Elle's giggles join Allison's, and you find them in the kitchen, flicking brownie batter at each other. Elle is covered, her blonde hair streaked with batter, and Allison isn't faring much better.

You're already pretty sure that your child is going to be spoiled as hell. Hopefully one of you can pony up the guts to be the rule maker…but every time you talk about your baby, all either of you want for them is to be happy.

You just want your baby to have everything you didn't have.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night, just as you're about to fall asleep, you hear Elle's voice.

"Claire was wrong," she tells you, and you wonder where that came from. "We did change. We are changing…we're not bad."

"Elle?"

"Allison liked me," her voice sounds so childish in the dark.

"Yes, she did."

"We're going to be good parents."

"We're going to do our best," you say, instead of agreeing. You can't help but worry.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you sure you want to know?" Grace teases Elle, who is lit up in all the good ways as she stares at the ultrasound image.

Elle nods eagerly, and Grace slides the wand over Elle's round belly until its angled just right, then points at the screen, "Can you see that?"

Elle squints, tipping her head towards the screen and stares hard.

"See the legs?" Grace points to the little baby's legs on the screen, and Elle follows with her eyes.

You figured it out five minutes ago, so you keep your mouth shut.

"And do you see _that?_" Grace asks.

"He's a boy? I'm having a boy?" Elle asks, excitedly.

"It's a boy," Grace confirms and Elle turns to smile at you, her eyes bright.

(You expect a little girl would have gotten much the same in way of reaction, but you don't tell her that.)

"We're having a little boy!" she says again, and it's like she can't decide what or who she wants to look at more – between you, Grace, and the picture of your _son_ on the black and white screen, she's going to throw out her neck.

She clutches the little print out as you guys walk down the hallway, and while you're aware of the stares she's generating, she's completely oblivious.

Most of the people at Pinehearst have pretty much stayed out of Elle's path since news of the baby broke, anyway. Despite the Elle you're getting to know in private, in public she's still a force to be reckoned with, and you suspect the people at Pinehearst are still a little intimidated by her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elle unlocks the door to your apartment, bouncing in and puts the picture of your son on the table before she turns to you and jumps into your arms.

"I used to dream about this," she tells you as you scramble to wrap your arms around her, holding her up as her legs curl around you, her belly pressing against yours.

"Dream about what?" you ask, leaning forward to nuzzle her neck.

"This," she sighs, waving an arm around to illustrate the apartment and shifting her balance in your arms while she does so. "A family. I have a _friend._ My own little apartment, not just a room with a bed."

"Someone who loves you," you tell her, kissing below her ear, and she practically melts in your arms.

Sometimes, you really do feel almost normal.


	6. Chapter 6

Elle is 24 weeks pregnant, and you're never exactly sure what her mood is going to be, but you're trying to go with it. One day you come back from one of your few assignments - nothing serious, and you think you've actually done some good in someone's life because of it – and she is crying, lying on her back, rolling electricity back and forth between her hands.

"What if he can do this?" she sobs, throwing a ball of electricity into the air, where it explodes. "What if he's got some weird ability and everyone wants him to show them? What if your dad…" she can't finish her sentence and settles for rolling over, curling into as small of a ball as she can, wrapping her arms around her tummy.

"Elle," you sigh, going over to her and laying down next to her, "Elle, no one is going to hurt our son. I promise, I won't let anyone, including my father, make him do anything he doesn't want to do, or that we don't want him to…"

"It's not _good enough_," she shouts, pushing away from you and standing up. "Sometimes your Daddy thinks your ability is really important and all he wants to do is…" she sinks to her knees in the carpet, her head in her hands, and cries so hard her shoulders shake.

"Elle, stop," you try, but she shakes her head.

"Just leave me alone," she requests, and you don't know what you're supposed to.

"Okay," you finally say, "I'm just gonna go in the living room. You come when you're ready, okay?"

You listen to her crying outside the bedroom door for another fifteen minutes before the sobs change to hiccups and then there is silence.

You wait a few minutes to check on her, and then go back in, picking her sleeping form up from the floor and tucking her into bed before crawling in next to her.

She curls against you even in her sleep, and you wrap your arms around her.

"I love you," you murmur against her hair, "I promise to keep you safe."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You wake up to movement against your stomach, and blink open your eyes. In her sleep, Elle has rolled over to face you, and her tummy is pressed against yours, your legs intertwined. The movement happens again, and you realize with sudden clarity what it is.

_Oh._

You scoot backwards from Elle, so that you can slide down and put your hands over her stomach. Inside, your son is rolling around and you can _feel him _moving. Elle has been talking about his kicks for the last few weeks, but this is the first time you've been able to feel anything.

"Hi," you whisper, and you think you've never felt anything like this before.

You are mesmerized by the feeling of your son moving, safe and protected, and you think Elle might have been on to something when she told she had done something right.

Because you can't imagine anything better than creating this life.

You've been pawing at her stomach and have completely lost track of time when you hear her laugh. Guiltily, you pull your hands away from her and apologize.

"Don't apologize," Elle says, taking your hand and putting it back on her stomach, "he's your son too."

Her mood is better this morning, and you decide not to mention the events from the previous night. You'll just have to work hard to show her that you're not going to be like her father, not ever.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Elle starts venturing out of Pinehearst's campus more and more, going to the park with Grace and Allison, even going to the mall alone one day. She's starting to experiment in the kitchen, and you learn she's not a bad cook (even if that peach pie was store bought.)

She's starting to turn your (empty) spare room into a nursery for the baby. You still haven't given up on the thought of your own place, but things are going alright with your father, and so you let her continue to plan. She asks you to paint the room blue, because she doesn't want to breathe in the fumes from the paint, and you spend a day covered in blue paint.

The mess is entirely worth it when she smiles at you.

When Elle comes back from a shopping trip with Grace bringing in bags of baby bedding and clothing, you actually start to relax. If you forget that your apartment is really in an upper floor in a building full of evolved humans, run by your father, you can pretend that your life is normal.

"It's been so quiet around here lately," Elle comments that night over dinner. "Is something going on?"

Nothing you want her to know about is going on, and you're not even considered in the loop, "My…parents," you settle for, still not entirely comfortable with that term for the two people who keep messing with your life, "and choosing sides. Elle, there's nothing you need to worry about."

"My whole life was spent _worrying_ about those things. I can't just turn it off," she argues.

"Your whole life was spent worrying about what your father _told_ you to worry about," you snap, and even as you say it you realize it's a little harsh, "Now just worry about what I tell you to worry about. I'm telling you everything's fine."

Elle's eyes widen and she drops her fork, "Fine," she snaps. "You forget I'm not helpless. I can find out on my own."

Before you even really comprehend her words, she is up and out of the apartment, leaving you to stare at her half full plate of ziti.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Elle is about fifteen feet away from her apartment when she realizes she's making a stupid decision. Still, she is no stranger to rash decisions, and so she keeps going. She first stomps down to Arthur Petrelli's office, hoping to find him. She hasn't had much opportunity to interact with him – Gabriel has been keeping her pretty well contained, but right now, she doesn't really care.

"What's going on with Gabriel?" she snaps as she bursts through the door, zapping the lock off with barely even a blink.

Arthur, for his part, doesn't so much as flinch. "Elle," he greets her, standing up from his chair and walking over to her like she's a dear friend, someone he's happy to see. He places a hand on her shoulder and motions for her to sit down.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but sits anyway, her hands automatically coming up to rest over her stomach, "Is there something going on that I need to be aware of?" she finally asks, feeling a little silly for bursting in, but refusing to admit anything.

"How is your pregnancy progressing, Elle?" Arthur asks, in lieu of giving her any real answer.

"Fine," she returns, rubbing a little when the baby kicks. "I'm not stupid," she blurts out, and then realizes that her argument didn't help her case any. "I'm sure you're well informed regarding everything that takes place here."

"You're carrying my grandchild, Elle, it's my right as a grandfather to be keep up to date on his progress."

"I want to know what's going on," she repeats. "I was raised in the Company; I'm not good at sitting on the sidelines."

"You're not sitting on the sidelines," Arthur's voice never wavers. "You're doing something very important. My grandson…he's going to be – "

"He's not going to be your anything," Elle snaps, talking before thinking. There's really nothing positive that can come from angering Arthur Petrelli, and letting him know that she intends to let no one but herself and Gabriel near their son is just giving him an advantage for when the child is born.

Which makes Arthur's lack of response all the more surprising (and a little suspicious, but Elle's playing his game now.)

"I think I want to go back to Gabriel," she says, standing up. When Arthur makes no move to argue, simply bids her goodnight, she leaves the room as quickly as she can without actually running.

And the worst part is she's not exactly sure what just happened.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Instead of going back to Gabriel, Elle decides to go for a walk. The city itself is pretty at night, she likes the lights of the tall buildings and the way the sky looks like a backdrop with a sprinkling of stars.

She wonders if Claire and Peter are still here, and what they were doing so close to Pinehearst – if Claire has gone home now with Peter, an airplane ride away, and why she said what she did about Elle in the first place.

Claire, of all people, should have known. Elle had told her on the plane, tried to be honest – she hadn't wanted this life, hadn't wanted to be an agent and certainly never meant to be _evil._

She just listened to her Daddy, she wanted to make him happy…but then she started to like it. Having power over someone else made her feel better, made her feel significant in the world. Watching regular humans' faces when she rolled up her hand and electricity shot out made her feel unique.

_Special._

When she watched Gabriel pin that kid – she should remember his name – when she saw the kid fly across the room and the red line start to appear on his forehead, she knew. And if Gabriel couldn't control it, couldn't control his ability, then there was really no way Elle would be able to.

Elle finds the playground that she and Grace walk Allison to sometimes, and kicks off her little ballet flats. (She misses the height the heels give her, but the heels hurt too much, throw her body off balance now that she's carrying the baby, and she thinks heels for the baby is a good trade, so she doesn't complain much.)

Sinking down on the swing, she runs her toes through the sand below her. She can't wait until she can bring her baby here, push him in the baby swing, and when he's bigger, she can hold him up while he grasps the monkey bars, help him move across them.

She saw another mother do that, and it looked like fun.

She still can't believe sometimes that this is really happening. She still feels like a child half the time, like Gabriel has to protect her, and in the back of her mind, she's aware that she's too attached to him. Too dependent. She doesn't mean to ineed/i so much, but she can't help it.

Between Gabriel, Grace, Allison and her baby, she has more loving people in her life now than if she added up everyone she's had before.

She remembers being three and drenched with water, hurting without really understand why. She remembers being seven, strapped to a chair except for one hand, crying while she tried to shoot targets with her sparkles. And at the end of every day, she remembers her father leaving her alone in her room without a kiss or a hug. She remembers standing in the hallway, telling her father she loved him, only to be answered by the sound of a door slamming shut. She can't remember a time when he answered her. All she really remembers her father telling her to buck up, take more, show him what she could do.

She feels like she should remember more…Noah tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen. The things she does remember are pieces, like fragments of a dream, and she struggles to remember what else…but it's all gone.

_My daddy loved me._

…right?

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

You are out of your mind with worry, and you can't find Elle anywhere. Somewhere in Pinehearst there has to be someone with the ability to track her, but you don't want anyone else to know she's missing, so you can't ask.

Instead you put together the crib Elle picked out and hope she comes home soon.

_Just like a normal couple. _

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elle swings, back and forth, tipping her head back and letting her hair blow in the wind her movement creates. The baby kicks and she smiles.

She's going to prove everyone wrong. Everything everyone's said about her…_sociopath with paranoid delusions. Crazy. Not good enough. Incapable of love_, everything everyone LIED about, made her believe for 25 years…

She's a good person. She's going to be a good mother.

She learned how to cook everything Gabriel likes, and bought baby clothes, just like everyone else. The woman in line at the baby store asked her how far along she was, smiled at her, and Elle answered, just like every other mother.

She can do this.

"Elle?"

Elle's head jerks up, and she can't believe her luck. Claire, alone.

_In the fucking playground, at ten at night?  
_

"What are you doing here,_ cheerleader_?" Elle asks, the nickname flying out before she can really edit it.

"Just…walking. There's – Peter, and Angela…we're…." her voice trails off, and Elle knows what she's really thinking. Of course Claire doesn't trust her. Of course she's not going to tell Elle why she's here.

Elle tries to think of something sassy to say, something typical and biting, but instead what comes out is, "Are you going to hurt us?"

Claire startles, standing in front of Elle, who hasn't moved from the swing, "Hurt you?"

"Me. Gabriel. We aren't doing anything wrong." Elle hates the way her voice ends on a whine, she hates looking vulnerable in front of other people (who aren't Gabriel.)

"You're killers."

Elle shakes her head, tears blurring her vision, "We're not."

"Oh really? How do you explain all those _dead people_?"

Elle bites her thumb, looks up at Claire through a curtain of blonde bangs. "I'm _sorry_."

"What are you planning with Arthur Petrelli?" Claire asks, ignoring her apology.

"I don't know," Elle whispers. "I don't know, no one tells me anything. I try…I just want to be normal, Claire."

"With Sylar?"

"I didn't…I knew him from before," Elle tries to explain, tries to explain the Gabriel that Claire will never meet, never understand. "Your father was my partner…we were there, at his house. He was a good man, and we made him a monster." Her voice hitches and she is not going to cry in front of Claire, not going to cry in front of the cheerleader.

Claire sits down on the swing next to Elle, watching her quietly.

"He's not a monster," Elle finishes, looking at Claire with big eyes, "Please, just leave us alone. _I'm sorry."_

Claire is quiet, "Elle…"

"You know, I thought your dad really cared about me, back then." Elle moves on like Claire hasn't said a word, "I thought he thought I was smart…that I could do a good job. He was nicer than my father ever was to me…"

Claire doesn't know what to do, so she reaches over and takes Elle's hand. Elle looks over, startled, then squeezes Claire's hand.

"Thanks, PomPom. Hey…when you talk to your dad?"

"Yeah?" Claire asks, a little scared to know what's coming next.

"Will you tell him…" Elle pauses, taking a deep breath, "will you tell him about the baby? About…Noah?"


	7. Chapter 7

When Elle finally comes home, she flies into your arms, clinging to you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she pants out, apologizing for everything as she cries. You just hold onto her, relieved she's back and okay and safe.

"Where did you go?" you ask, backing up with her still in your arms until you're sitting on the couch with Elle in your lap. She's not going to fit for much longer but right now you're just glad to have her near you.

"I tried…I tried to talk to your dad," she tells you, "and then…I just went for a walk."

"A walk? Elle, it's not safe…"

She laughs then, a sarcastic laugh. "It's not_ safe? _Seriously? That's the best reason you can give me for not leaving Pinehearst?"

"It's just…with the baby, and we don't know what my mother is planning…"

"I'm not a doll," Elle snaps out, standing up and pushing away from you, just like she always does when she's upset, "I'm not fragile, and I can take CARE OF MYSELF." Little sparks shoot out from her hands, sizzling out before the hit the carpet, "Or did you forget?"

"Elle, I didn't mean that you couldn't take care of yourself. I have a right to worry about you and our son, and I want to know that both of you are safe."

You're not sure what it is about that sentence that takes all the wind out of Elle's anger, and she lets out a little sigh, "I didn't think about it…I didn't think anyone worried about me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elle wakes you up in the middle of the night by wrapping her lips around your cock and sucking hard.

It's probably the best wakeup call you've ever had in your entire life you think, as your hands move automatically to twist in her hair, and she raises her eyes to meet yours, her smirk evident in her eyes.

You stop her before it's over too soon, encouraging her to move off of you. She lets you go with a pop, crawling over your body to kiss her way up your body, meeting your lips.

Your hands slide under her (your) shirt and cup her breasts. She moans appreciatively, straddling you and sinking down, making you jump.

She's not usually the one to instigate things…she'll drop a few hints or push you against the wall, but she usually leaves it up to you to pull her towards the bedroom or unbutton your jeans, so to wake up to a half naked Elle attacking you in all the right ways is pretty much a dream come true.

She's bouncing as best she can now, her legs trembling with effort as she moves. Her eyes are clenched shut and her lower lip is sucked between her teeth as she concentrates on riding you at a gallop.

"Gabriel…" she's gasping your name now, and you slide your hand down her body until you can roll your fingers around her slippery clit. In seconds, she's coming, panting your name (you'll never get sick of hearing it from her) and collapsing next to you.

You cup her hips with your hands – they look so big compared to her still tiny body – and encourage her to raise her hips, and move behind her, sliding in again. She screams in pleasure, her head dropping face first into the pillow as you finally come inside of her.

You fall asleep still inside of her, and you think you could get used to feeling so happy all of the time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the morning, Elle is up and showered before you for the first time in a long while, and you find her in what is going to be Noah's room, folding tiny blue onsies while humming quietly to herself.

When you walk into the room, she beams, holding up a little shirt with a lightning bolt on it.

"Just so people here know who his parents are," she laughs, like she's not the hot topic of gossip for _everyone _connected with Pinehearst.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first inkling that you have that you're going to be in for a wild ride with your son is when Elle wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, screaming for you.

She's in your arms in seconds, her heart pounding against your chest and she tells you that she wants you to stay home from the trip you're supposed to go on, that she had a bad dream.

You shrug it off, rubbing her back until she falls asleep again and you leave in the morning before she wakes up.

Coming home three days later, your little car is crushed by a semi and it takes you four hours before you wake up, and another hour to heal after you've pulled all the metal from your body and crawled out of your car.

It's the longest you've been hurt for in a long, long time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The second time is when Elle shoots fire out of her hands instead of electricity.

She's handling these weird influxes in her powers better than you are, and she laughs a little when she tells you the only story she's ever been told about her mother: that when she was pregnant with Elle, she shorted out three different ultrasound machines and all the lights on the third floor of the hospital.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elle becomes increasingly nervous about staying at Pinehearst, and more time away from the apartment. You don't like it, her jumpiness puts you on edge, and before you know it, you're fighting about the laundry you did three weeks ago.

25 years of never being good enough means that Elle can go from grinning to defensive in about thirty seconds, and with every passing day she only gets worse.

"I don't trust him," she says one night, totally out of the blue, digging ice cream out of the container and laying on the couch. She is 35 weeks pregnant and when you're not fighting, you're teasing her about eating everything that isn't nailed down.

"Who now?" You know that she's been talking to Claire, know she's already decided that the baby's name is going to be Noah, and you've been worried all along that maybe this time, Claire is on the wrong side.

"Your father. I don't…I just want to leave. Can we leave?"

"Elle, he's been nothing but trustworthy…he's responsible for Grace and taking care of you…"_ and letting Claire near Elle was a horrible idea._

"Noah doesn't like him, and I want to leave."

She welds the bedroom door shut that night, and you're too tired to deal with her, so you pretend like there aren't fifteen different ways you could remove the door (14 of them with your mind, one of them by taking the damn thing off its hinges) and leave her alone.

It would be that night that Elle starts contractions, and you're up and off the couch and through the door even before you're completely awake.

There's blood all over the bed and she's zapping herself with every contraction. You don't know that much about giving birth, but you know this is all wrong.

"I'm sorry," she gasps as you scoop her up and take her down two floors to the room that's been ready for this since before you told Arthur she was pregnant. Grace meets you there – you didn't call her, and so that means…Arthur did, and that means you missed a camera.

You can't bring yourself to care.

Grace is talking to you, but all you can hear are Elle's pants and groans.

"Just..fix it," you tell Grace, frantic, "it's too early, and…just _fix it!"_

"Gabriel, I'm here, and I'm trained for this," she says, calmer than you, and hiding her worry a lot better, "everything is going to be fine, okay? Go hold her hand."

Elle's little hand clenches around yours, and she can't stop the slow tears leaking out of her eyes, "I didn't mean…I'm sorry…" she babbles, then whimpers as another contraction hits, sending electricity up your arm.

The last thing you're thinking about right now is any fight you've ever had with her, and so all you do is let her hang onto your hand, burning and reburning your palm.


	8. Chapter 8

Reviews really make my day. It's nice for authors to know what readers do and do not like and reviews are the only way we know if people are enjoying what we're writing. :)

And we're off....

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There's nothing that can be done stop Elle's labor – she's been in active labor for barely four hours and she's already fully dilated. Noah is clearly ready to be in the world, and he's sick of waiting around.

"Okay, Elle, I want you to wait until you feel the urge, and then push, okay?" Grace instructs, the picture of someone who is in charge and prepared, "If you can try not to spark, that would be really good, sweetheart, just remember I'm here, and everything is going to be fine."

Elle nods, her eyes locked on yours.

"You're gonna be fine, Elle," you tell her, wiping her sweaty hair back away from her eyes. Her bangs are too long (another way for her to hide) and they keep sticking to her forehead. "I am right here, and everything is going to be fine."

Elle tries to talk, but a contraction takes her breath away, and she clenches her teeth, tipping her chin down to her chest and pushing as hard as she can.

"Good, good job, Elle, keep going," a nurse next to Elle's bed praises her, counting to ten before Elle takes a gasping breath, throwing her head back against the pillow and turning her face to yours again.

"Don't let them take him," she begs you, "don't let them take my baby."

"No one's going to take him, Elle, but Grace will need to take him to check him out…make sure everything is okay."

Elle shakes her head, "Then you have to go with him, don't let your father _take him_."

"I'll stay with him, I promise," you say just as Elle's jaw clenches in pain, and she tips her jaw down again. The nurse counts again and you can almost see Elle aim to zap her, then think better of it. She squeezes your hand harder instead.

"I can see his head," Grace says, and Elle whimpers. "Push again, Elle, and we're gonna have a baby."

Elle listens, obediently pushing, the muscles in her jaw tense. Her mouth opens in a silent scream and Grace cheers as she catches the tiny, screaming baby.

"Elle, he's here," she says, holding him up as she clears his mouth and nose, wiping him down with a towel. His little body shakes with his screams, and for a second you are mesmerized by him. He is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

"Elle, honey, look," you encourage, glancing at Elle, who has been quiet since Noah was born.

Her eyes are closed, her head lolling back on the pillow.

"Grace? Grace, Elle," you gasp out, pointing, but Grace is already working, pushing the blanket back from Elle's legs and all you can see is blood.

"Hemorrhaging," she shouts, passing Noah to the nurse, "get him in the incubator and get him some oxygen."

Your little son is breathing heavily, and you watch as the nurse rushes him away in a little plastic case. You are torn between wanting to stay with Elle and your promise to stay with Noah.

"Go with him," Grace orders you, her voice sharper than you've ever heard, "I promise to take care of Elle. _Stay with your son._"

You follow the nurse down the hallway, keeping an eye on Noah. She is gentle with him, careful as she checks him over, listens to his little heart, before giving you a smile.

"Healthy baby, sir," she says, handing you the swaddled child, "Five weeks early and not a thing wrong. Maybe that's his superpower," she smiles as she says it, but you barely hear her.

_He's fine._

_Elle…_

Noah's little eyes open and he studies you with newborn blue eyes. They look like Elle's, but all newborns have blue eyes. _You just want to see Elle's eyes again. Please let her be okay._

"Five pounds on the dot," the nurse continues, "16 inches long. He's a big baby for being so early."

"Hi, Noah," you whisper, touching the tip of his nose.

"He's going to be hungry," the nurse says, "we should get him a bottle ready…"

"Elle…she doesn't want him to have a bottle," you say, still studying Noah, not wanting to think about what might be happening down the hallway. Elle has been reading baby books for months, she's already decided everything. You didn't even buy any bottles…

The nurse nods, takes the hint and backs off, "he'll be alright for a little while," she assents, nodding, "but if he starts to cry, he'll need…"

"His _mother_ wants to breastfeed him, and she needs to recover," you snap, and the baby in your arms startles at your yell, his eyes wide. He doesn't cry, just looks at you with a gaze too intense to be from a newborn. "I'm sorry, Noah. I didn't mean to yell."

You swear the child relaxes in your arms, and you sink into a chair, cradling the tiny baby. You trace his little face with your finger tip, over the line of his cheekbone and down the tip of his nose. The movement feels familiar, and you realize it's because he has Elle's little nose.

He's the most perfect thing you have ever seen, and you helped to create him. You and Elle…she hasn't even seen her baby yet, and she was so excited to meet him…

Oh god, you can't_ do this_ without her. You don't know anything about being a dad…

When you pull the blanket away from his little feet, his toes wiggle. You count each one, and touch every toe as you move across. All ten elicit the same wiggle.

"Noah, I'm your daddy," you tell him as you wrap the blanket back around him, "I'm your daddy, and I love you no matter what, okay? No matter what happens, I promise to always love you. And your mommy loves you too, we both love you. Just…mommy needs a little bit of time to get better, and then she'll tell you herself, okay?" You're not used to feeling this helpless – completely unable to _fix_ things, and you hate it more than you ever thought you would.

Noah just looks at you, not blinking, and for a second you're positive he understands you.

"I need to go see your momma," you tell him, "Make sure she's okay. But I promise I'll be back." You lean forward, kissing the baby on the forehead before you leave him with the nurse, "I need to see Elle."

"Alright, sir," the nurse says, taking Noah from your hands.

You don't like leaving your son with the nurse, but your need to make sure that Elle is okay is overriding everything else.

xxxxxxx

Elle is laid out like a sacrifice and even though Grace has covered her with a clean sheet, all you can see is blood, all around her. Her skin is gray, her lips ashen and you can see the delicate veins running through her eyelids. When you reach for her hand, you expect at least some reaction – a tiny squeeze or a flutter of her eyelids, but her cold hand is limp in yours.

"Is she…" you don't want to end your question, because you don't really want to know the answer.


	9. Chapter 9

"…and she'll be fine, Gabriel…" Grace's voice fades in and out in the background as you stare at Elle.

_Just wake up, then, if you're going to be fine, _you think. Your eyes follow the slow drip of the IV into her arm.

"She just needs a little blood," Grace is telling you, placing a reassuring hand on your arm, "She's stable and not bleeding any longer."

You don't like it. You've never seen Elle so still before and you can't stand it. You're pretty sure you'd rather let her electrocute you every day than see her lying on this hospital bed ever again.

"Elle, you have to wake up," you tell her, trying for a commanding voice but end up sounding more like you're begging, "You have to see our son."

"Who did you leave Noah with?" Grace asks you sharply, as though she's just realized he's not in the room.

"With the nurse…the one that was here…"

"I want him to stay with us," Grace tells you. "I'll be right back. You stay with Elle, okay?"

You nod, overwhelmed. Isn't this supposed to be a happy day?

Grace is back in minutes, pushing Noah in his little bassinet. "We're going to keep him next to you and Elle, and stay in here," she tells you seriously, "I know that Elle…" she's stumbling over words like you've never heard her before, and you try to wait her out. "Elle doesn't want your father near the baby, alright?"

"She's been a little stressed," you argue, "the pregnancy, all the changes in our lives. Once she wakes up, she'll feel better, and everything will be fine."

"Gabriel, you're not _listening_ to me. Noah doesn't like Arthur."

"Of course Bennet doesn't like….you're not talking about Bennet."

"I'm really not."

"So all those dreams Elle was having…they weren't just coincidences." You'd known since the car accident, but you refused to accept it… that stupid car accident that knocked you out, healing and all, for four hours, on that _stupid_ trip she'd pleaded with you to stay home from.

"They were Noah."

_Well, shit._

You glance over at your tiny son, lying in the little bassinet, all wrapped up in a blanket. He's not supposed to be able to do those things yet…you didn't want him to be like Elle, you wanted her accidental fire to be mistake, a blip in her powers caused by the pregnancy…not really because of your son.

You didn't want him to have any powers at all, if you're honest with yourself.

A tiny whimper catches your ear, and you look again to Noah, but he's quiet.

_Elle…_

She's blinking open her eyes, turning her head like it takes more energy than she has.

"Gabriel," she sighs, and you're next to her in a second.

"Hey, sweetheart," you push her bangs away from her face. Her skin is warmer, but not normal, and her skin still has that awful ashy pallor, "How do you feel?"

"Hurts," she murmurs, "water?"

Grace is right there with a little cup of water and a straw, and you cradle the back of Elle's head, helping her sit up just enough to take a sip from the straw. The water helps, and Elle's hands move automatically to her stomach.

"My baby?" she struggles to sit up, pain pushed to the back of her mind.

"Elle, Elle, it's okay," Grace tries to keep her lying down, "he's fine, he's fine."

Elle looks around the room frantically, until she finds the little plastic bassinet, "_Noah_," she breathes, "I want to hold him."

You help her hold the baby, propping pillows up under her still weak arms, and when he's settled in her arms, content finally to be with his mom, Elle starts to cry.

"He's fine, Elle," you repeat your mantra from earlier, "he's totally fine, you did so good, Elle."

"You have to take him away," she begs you, "you have to keep him safe."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know you're safe," you argue, but it just makes Elle cry harder.

"You don't understand. You aren't going to understand…if he dies, it changes everything."

The little baby in Elle's arms squeaks, stretching his little arms out of the swaddle, and Elle is mesmerized by his tiny fingers. Her last sentence runs through your mind on repeat…_if he dies, it changes everything_…i Your son isn't going to die…he's fine, everyone keeps telling you he's fine.

"Congratulations, son." Arthur's voice from the doorway makes you turn your attention away from Elle and Noah, and you watch as he approaches the bed with Elle and your son.

"Noah Robert," he says, looking at the little baby. "Elle, will you never stop punishing yourself?"

Elle glares at your father, holding Noah close to her. She doesn't answer his question.

"Can I hold my grandson?" he asks, and you don't know why that question sounds so menacing.

Elle silently shakes her head, holding one hand away from Noah, letting electricity crackle between her fingers. The sparks are weaker than you're used to seeing from her, but the little rolling ball of energy is growing.

Arthur laughs, "You don't think a little jolt is enough to do anything, do you Elle? Let me hold my grandson."

"Dad…she just woke up. Can you… can you give us some time? She just got to see him, I'm sure you'll be able to hold him soon," you plead, because if he doesn't back off then it means Elle was right, that Grace knows something, and that you, despite all your abilities, have been horribly, horribly played.

"Come now, Gabriel. I just want to see my grandson." Arthur's words seem completely non-threatening, but his tone but his tone tells you something completely different.

"You need to leave. Now." You don't want to be wrong, you don't want to be wrong. You stare him down, and he chuckles.

He reaches out to touch Noah, and Elle shudders, her electricity going out. She's too weak to move, and she can't even keep her electricity under control for very long. Arthur touches Noah's face, down his cheeks and Elle looks at you with pleading eyes. You can tell she's not used to feeling this helpless, and she's going to start crying again.

"Father, that's enough," you snap, and just as you go to pull him away from your family, he jumps back, ripping his arm back and shaking at his sleeve.

For a second you think Elle's zapped him away, but then you look over at the bed. In Elle's arms, Noah's tiny hands are lit up with blue fire.

Arthur's eyes widen in excitement, and he backs away from the bed. "You're right. I'll let you rest, Elle," he says, and backs out of the room. You know he'll be back, that he wasn't counting on Noah's power manifesting at birth, and that this is only going to make everything much, much worse.

Xxxxxxxxxx

When Arthur leaves, Elle pushes the baby at you, "Now will you listen to me?" she begs, I_"You need to take him!"_

"Take him where? What about you?" Why didn't you know this was going to happen?

When you scoop Noah into your arms, the fire is gone and his little baby fingers are just fine. _Just like mom…_

Elle is shaking, her whole little body trembling, and Grace is trying to keep her covered. No woman needs to be dealing with this after giving birth, and Elle looks so small in the hospital bed, covered with blankets.

You think about the cute little nursery she's been decorating and the little outfits she picked out…and then how her entire attitude changed and she started talking more about leaving.

You should have realized then, instead of brushing her off. Instead of babying her, thinking she was overreacting.

Grace presses a scrap of paper into your hand, and you read it on reflex. It's an address, some hastily scribbled directions and a name.

_Noah Bennet._

"You need to go downstairs, and take my car – the red Chevy Impala – and you need to take Noah there," Grace hisses in your ear, "I promise you that Elle will be fine, and we will meet you there in a few days, do you understand?"

You glance over at Elle, who gives you a tearful nod. Before you can let yourself think about this too much, you're kissing her goodbye and taking off down the hall with baby Noah in your arms.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

When you pull up at the little house, the little house that has a fucking flower garden in the front of it, you're pretty sure that you've lost your mind but you get out anyway, clinging to your son. You're standing in front of the house wondering if you're really supposed to go knock when the damn cheerleader comes running out, her eyes wide.

_"Sylar?"_ she gasps, running up to you and reaching for Noah, "Is this…is this the ba- where's Elle? What happened? Did she…" she sucks in a breath, "What's going on?"

Noah blinks calmly as you give him to Claire, and now you really don't know what to think. _Elle._

"No…she's back…" You're just going to have to trust that Elle knew what she was doing, and trust…Claire.

"Come inside," Claire urges you, "everything's ready."

Bennet is sitting on the couch, looking a little ill at ease with you in this little house, but he doesn't say anything to you. Claire shows you a little room with a full**-**sized bed covered with a worn blanket and a little bassinet.

"We tried to have something better…" you're shocked that she sounds almost apologetic, like she really cares, "but there are some clothes for you and the baby…and Elle…in the dresser and some formula in the kitchen…"

"Why are you helping me?" you finally ask, proud that at least your voice doesn't shake.

"Elle…she just wanted a family. It took me a long time to realize that she wasn't trying to play me, that she was just trying to live, and be happy. When she came to me and told me she was worried…I had to do what I could."

The silence in the room threatens to overwhelm you. "Thanks," you finally say, and she nods, just as uncomfortable as you are. Noah starts to fuss, and you reach for him automatically. "I think he's hungry. I was trying to wait for…" your voice catches, and you swallow hard, "I need to get him one of those bottles."

Claire nods and shows you to the little kitchen, jumps up to sit on the counter while she watches you try to balance the baby and mix a bottle.

"Want some help?" she finally asks, and takes Noah from your arms so that you have both hands free to fumble with the container of formula and the plastic bottle.

"Two ounces…one scoop," you mutter, holding the bottle at eye level to try to measure how much water.

Five minutes later, you have a bottle and your son's cries have risen to ear splitting levels. When you take him and slide the nipple of the bottle between his lips, he latches on and stops crying within seconds, watching you with his big eyes.

"He likes you," Claire observes, jumping down and leading you to the living room, where the elder Noah is still sitting. You sit down in the chair that Claire gestures to, watching Bennet.

"So that's the baby," he finally says, "Claire told me Elle was…expecting."

You nod, glancing from Bennet to your son, not sure what you're supposed to say.

"Why'd she name him Noah?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at the baby.

"She said…she told me that you were the first person who treated her like she was someone special…like she'd be someone special even without her powers. When she was little."

Bennet bites his lip and swallows hard, "He alright?" he asks, "He's awfully small."

"He's alright," you say, rubbing Noah's tiny back to make him burp before offering him another ounce of milk, "He was early, but he's fine…I think it might have something to do with my…" _oh, awkward, _"healing."

Bennet doesn't comment on that either and you're relieved. "So he's…like you?"

"He's like Noah," you snap, then feel a little stupid for being on the defensive when so far, they've done nothing but help you.

But Bennet is looking strangely impressed, and nods. "He's shown an ability, I meant."

You nod, "Just the once. And once when Elle," _you have to be able to say her name without choking, you have to. She has to be okay…._ "was pregnant with him."

Bennet doesn't ask what it is, and you don't offer an explanation. You have absolutely no idea who you're supposed to trust, and you're absolutely done changing alliances like a pair of socks.

So you sit in the living with a man who's worked to kill you, who also happens to be the father of the girl you've tried to kill more than once, and you feed your son out of a bottle, because you don't know what else to do.


	10. Chapter 10

Three days go past in a scary sort of haze. You sleep on the bed, with your newborn son cradled in your arms. The bassinet stands empty – you're done taking chances with him.

You, Claire and Bennet have developed a shaky relationship. You don't do anything that could be perceived at threatening, and Bennet mostly stays out of your way. You've caught him staring at your son more than once, and you can't help but wonder what he thinks of baby Noah.

It's before dawn on day four when you wake up to the sound of someone banging on the door. You fly out of bed, passing Noah off to Claire in what feels like a prearranged dance. Bennet raises his gun (right, that'll help) and the two of you stand in front of the door. You flick your fingers and the door creeps open just enough for Grace to shove her way through.

"It's me," she greets, holding up her hands when she sees Bennet's gun, "I'm Grace, I'm a friend, please don't shoot."

Bennet lowers his gun, glancing at you. You nod and he relaxes, stepping back.

"Where's Elle?" you demand and Grace points to the door.

"She's in the car," Grace says, "I couldn't carry her…"

You fly out the door and yank open the rusty passenger side door of the pick-up that is parked outside the little house. Elle's head turns when she hears the door open, and when she sees you, a slow smile spreads across her face.

"You're alright," she says, reaching for you. You catch her in both arms, carrying her like a baby into the house, laying her down carefully on the couch while Bennet re-bolts the front door.

You're kneeling on the floor next to the couch, and you can't keep your hands away from Elle's face. She's alive and safe and here now, and the knot that has been tightening in your stomach finally starts to uncoil.

"Where's my baby?" Elle whispers, looking around the room for him.

"Claire's upstairs with him," you start, and Bennet stands up.

"I'll get them," he tells Elle, and she relaxes, clinging to your hand.

"We left," she tells her, her voice raspy, "we left that night but I wasn't strong enough...Arthur doesn't know about this house. We're safe here."

You nod, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her hair is limp and she's not wearing any make up, but you couldn't care less – to see her in front of you, breathing and touching you, is a sight you've been dying for every minute since you kissed her goodbye.

"I missed you," she breathes, and you can't resist her, leaning forward to kiss her gently. She returns your kiss, and you move from her lips to kiss her pink cheeks, her eyelids, her jaw.

"I missed you so much," you tell her when you finally pull away. Grace and Bennet are speaking quietly, but you can see him watching you out of the corner of his eye. Surely he doesn't think you're a threat…that _Elle's _any kind of threat…

Claire appears at the foot of the stairs, Noah bundled in her arms, and Elle lets out a gasping sob as Claire carefully passes her the little baby.

"Hi, Noah," she whispers, struggling to sit up to see him better. You help her move, sliding in behind her so she can rest against your chest while she holds her son.

"He's so beautiful," she says, touching the locks of blonde hair covering his little head. "Look what we did."

You kiss the side of her face, "He's perfect."

"What are we going to do?" she asks tearfully, holding Noah's tiny hands, "We don't have anywhere to go…"

"It's all taken care of," you tell her, as you fill her in on the plan that you have been developing with Bennet. "There's a little house in the country in Minnesota…we can be normal," you tell her, and wipe a tear away from her cheek with your thumb. "We can have our son, and a house, away from all of this."

Elle nods, leaning back against you and tucking her head under your chin, "He'll find us," she says, "but at least this way it will take awhile."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elle is still not strong enough to get up and walk without help, and you and Claire take turns taking care of her, making sure she eats and sleeps. She passes her days lying in the bed with Noah, talking to him and tracing his little features with her finger. She is absolutely focused on him, on what he needs, and how to make sure he has a childhood the complete opposite of hers.

You suspect this other side of Elle is scaring Claire and Bennet just a little – despite Elle and Claire's shaky friendship, you still get the idea both Bennets think of Elle as a little spacey and absolutely crazy.

You don't even want to think about how they perceive you.

The second day, Grace bids Elle a tearful farewell. She needs to leave now too, to make sure that Allison is kept away from harm. Elle cries in-between her apologies, wrapping her arms around her first friend.

"No one but you has ever done anything like that for me," she murmurs to you later, lying tucked up against your side while Noah sleeps on your chest. "I don't understand why people are helping us. How are we going to protect everyone?"

"We're just going to do the best we can," you tell her, kissing her forehead, "we can't do anything else."

Xxxxxxxxx

A week after Elle first arrived, she is strong enough to travel, and now it's time to say goodbye to Claire and Bennet. You think the eldest Bennet is more than happy to see you off – just because he doesn't think the two of you are killers anymore doesn't mean he wants to start making friendship bracelets – but you swear that Claire goes a little teary when she passes Noah to Elle for the last time.

You take the silver car that Bennet offers you, and buckle Noah into the car seat that Claire picked out. It's got little animals on a tan background, and Claire looks delighted with her purchase.

The car seat Elle picked out was blue, but it's sitting empty in your apartment at Pinehearst.

"Thank you," you hear Elle whisper as she hugs Claire. She hesitates for a minute when she gets to Bennet, then shakily holds out her hand.

You think she's as surprised as you are when Bennet wraps his arms around Elle.

"I'm proud of you, Elle," he murmurs, and you know he means for just Elle to hear, but you can't help listening, "I'm so proud of who you've become, and I'm sorry for everything."

The smile Elle gives him when he lets go her could light up half of the country, and she ducks her head and wipes her eyes. "Thank you," she says simply, and you know she wants to say so much more…but there's just no more time.

Elle slides into the passenger seat as you move to the driver's seat, and she waves as you pull away from the little white house for the last time.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Three Years Later  
**_

"Noah monster, if you don't come downstairs right now, I'm sending Daddy up!" Elle shouts from the kitchen, "And you know what that means!"

Your tow-headed three year old son comes bouncing down the stairs, grinning. He's too young yet to be any real good at sneaking up on you, but you pretend to be absorbed in setting the table, and shout loudly in surprise when he jumps at you, clinging to your leg.

"Means _tickle fight,_ Mommy, but I'm gonna get him FIRST!" Noah shrieks, digging his little fingers into the sides of your leg.

"Not the tickle fight!" you yell dramatically, peeling your son off your leg and throwing him into the air. Noah shrieks with laughter and Elle chuckles as you throw him over your shoulder and carry him into the living room.

"I meant it was DINNER TIME," she shouts, "I didn't realize I had two little boys!"

You poke your head around the corner to grin at her, "Nothing little about me," you say, grinning. "Besides, he started it."

Elle rolls her eyes as she turns the stove to low to keep dinner warm so she can come join you in the living room. You've got Noah pinned on the couch with his foot in your hand, and you're making dramatic biting noises as he giggles. Elle rolls her eyes, but she can't wipe the smile on her face as she reaches for Noah.

If you stop to think about it, really think about what you have, you're worried you'll wake up. You have a little house in a suburb, away from Arthur and Angela and Pinehearst and anyone else who thinks all you and Elle have to offer the world are a few abilities. Away from anyone who will tell Noah that he is special only because of his abilities. In fact, Noah learned early on that his abilities have to stay in the house, but you've never made him ashamed of what he is, and what he can do.

_"Okay buddy? We have to keep the fire only at home with mommy and daddy only, because we don't want anyone to feel sad that they can't do it, alright? And if you have a bad dream, you just tell me or Mommy, okay? And we promise to take care of everything."_

Getting away from Pinehearst was the best decision that you've ever made. You're so different now, better than you were before all of this started and you struggle every day with staying that person, being a daddy and a husband instead of Sylar.

The trade offs are huge, and you never think you've made the wrong decision.

You love living in Minnesota, because no one pays any attention to you. You have friends (_friends_) in the neighborhood, but no one looks at you like you're different, like they're scared of you. Noah has little play dates with children just his age, and Elle has more friends than she can count on both of her hands.

No one takes any special notice of the White family beyond bringing over chicken soup when they hear that you're sick or offering to babysit Noah so you and Elle can have a date night. The only people you really see from before are the Bennets and, surprisingly Peter, whom Noah adores. They keep you updated enough to know that you're still safe, but you dread the day when you'll have to leave your little house.

Until that day comes, you're just going to take things one step at a time.

After all, that's what normal people do, isn't it?


End file.
